Invisible Dreamer
by hopeisabluebird
Summary: When the supernatural enters Kim's life she learns the paradoxical truth that love is sometimes absurd, faith is sometimes naive, and to notice someone is not always enough... A Jared/Kim Imprint story.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N This is my take on Jared and Kim's story. The words in italics are from Madeleine L'Engle's **_**A Wind in the Door**_**. It's an incredible book, and my inclusion of quotes from it will make more sense as the story progresses. Tell me what you think! Review and you can have the werewolf of your choice. :o)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. **

**Invisible Dreamer**

Chapter One: Optimism

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_"There are dragons in the twins' vegetable garden."_

_Meg Murray took her head out of the refrigerator where she had been foraging for an after-school snack, and looked at her six-year-old brother. "What?"_

_"There are dragons in the twins' vegetable garden. Or there were. They've moved to the north pasture now."_

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Kim Donoma rolled out of bed Monday morning five minutes before her alarm clock went off. She always set her alarm, but she rarely let it wake her up, preferring to allow her body's internal clock that privilege. And it sure beat greeting the day by waking up to her alarm's infernal noise.

"…And to be more like Him, more with Him, not merely with oneself…" Kim whispered softly. She wasn't sure how much she really believed from Sunday mass, but she liked the prayer.

Kim stretched and padded off softly to wake up her three little brothers, Ryan, Joey and Scotty. Ryan was twelve and Joey and Scotty were ten-year-old twins. One touch on the shoulder was all it took. They awoke with a vengeance, trampling through the house with their own particular brand of little boy teasing, ferocious noise, pig-headed competitiveness, and unspoken camaraderie.

She adored them.

Her parents both worked at the hospital, her mother as a nurse and her father as a lab tech. They drove to work early in the morning so that they could be home in the evening when the children got home from school at 4:30. Although school let out at 2:45, Kim took care of taking the boys to after-school activities – Ryan to band practice where he played (in a loose sense of the word _played_) the drums, Joey to art class and Scotty to soccer.

While the boys ate, Kim showered and got dressed for school. She pulled a plain black sweater from her closet, wide-leg jeans and black boots. Her style was a carefully constructed compromise between the stylish and the plain. The jeans and the sweater were of good material, and cut beautifully, but they had nothing special to distinguish them. No buttons, ribbons, or stitching – nothing to make her stand out, either as a punk, prep, or goth. She refused to wear any of the uniforms of high school, preferring the anonymity that her simple style brought. Nobody ever noticed her by the way she dressed, either to mock or admire.

"Ryan, Scotty, Joey – come on!" she called, grabbing her heavy backpack. "Let's go!"

The boys scrambled to grab their backpacks, extract missing sneakers under the couch, stuff Oreos and peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches into lunch bags, and forgotten homework assignments into rumpled folders. Instantly there erupted a fierce argument over who would take shot-gun.

"Boys, you remember our rule," said Kim. "We alternate every three days. Now, who rode shotgun yesterday?"

Scotty raised his hand.

"Alright, then today it's Joey's turn to sit in the front seat," said Kim, smiling at him.

Joey whooped and did a strange dance that Kim _thought_ was based off some of the traditional dances of the tribe – but in his rain-boots it was hard to be sure.

If she was allowed to have a favorite, it would be Joey. Joey had an autoimmune disorder called juvenile rheumatoid arthritis, or JRA for short. He took fistfuls of medication every day that stunted his growth and weakened his already fragile bones, but that allowed his gnarled joints to relax – to be pain-free and supple. Several inches shorter than his twin, Joey looked years younger than the other two, something that never ceased to cause him mortification. Aside from his height, Joey never spared a single thought for his disease.

Today was a good day for Joey as well. He hadn't rolled out of bed with that stiff-shouldered hunch and tightened skin around the eyes that she dreaded. His hands were able to grip the breakfast spoon easily, causing Kim to heave a sigh of relief. If he could hold the spoon, then he could hold a paint-brush at his after-school art class. Some days he couldn't, although he would never admit it. He called those days "pottery days" because his teacher would allow him to work with the softer clay, so much easier on his arthritic hands. In his simple optimism, he looked forward to both painting days and pottery days, unwilling to admit the underlying reason that made pottery days necessary.

When Joey had good days, Kim had good days. His unconscious and spontaneous optimism filtered like sunshine into her step.

She dropped the boys off at the reservation's Middle School, which was conveniently close to the High School. After dropping them off, she rushed across the street to her school. She slammed her beat-up car into one of the farthest spots at the already filled High School's parking lot, and dashed inside, almost late for first period.

The small mob of the res's high school population milled around inside, and Kim began her usual fluid weave in between the students. She had learned long ago that at her stature (5"2) she would either get plastered against the walls, or trampled under foot unless she learned to navigate crowds with any kind of ease.

Thankfully, her size, in this case, worked _for_ her instead of _against_ her. Being small and just shy of a hundred pounds, Kim could maneuver through spaces taller and larger people could not, meaning that she was able to skim along the edges of crowds, moving with a patient, practiced ease.

On days like today, when she was feeling optimistic, she almost considered it a game. She liked to see if she could get to her locker at the end of the hallway without stopping her measured, unhurried but purposeful tred. Most days she succeeded.

Of course, on days like today, she was even (sometimes) able to admit to herself why she wanted to get to her locker so quickly.

Jared Tala-Hania had the locker just across from hers.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Yea! Here is chapter 2 for Invisible Dreamer! I hope everyone enjoys it. I'm kind of taking my time before Jared imprints on Kim. The story actually has a much wider focus than just strictly the imprint, so I'm taking my time setting everything up. **

**For one thing, I've always wondered why more Jared/Kim fics didn't have much on the Bella/Edward/Jacob situation.... It's kind of an important thing impacting the pack. Anyway, I need to build things up slowly for that. **

**Please review! It makes me happy! :o)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. **

Chapter Two: Reflections

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"_I suppose you must be some kind of Namer, too, even if a primitive one."_

"_A what?"_

"_A Namer. For instance, the last time I was with a Teacher – or at a school, as you call it – my assignment was to memorize the names of the stars."_

_"Which stars?"_

_"All of them."_

_"You mean __**all**__ the stars, in __**all**__ the galaxies?"_

_"Yes. If he calls for one of them, someone has to know which one he means. Anyhow, they like it; there aren't many who know them all by name, and if your name isn't known, then it's a very lonely feeling." _

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She had liked Jared Tala-Hania for as long as she could remember. She assumed that it had been an unspoken part of her personality since birth. However, she first became _aware_ of her adoration of Jared when she was in the sixth grade. He had been sent by his teacher Mr. Dichali to ask her teacher Mrs. Shimasani a question about the school-wide Christmas party that would take place at the end of the week. She had looked up from her math worksheet and it was as if she had been struck dumb. She likened it to seeing an old friend after an absence of years. She realized then what had been a sub-text to every action of her life before now – she would do anything for Jared.

At rare moments – when she thought about it objectively – she could concede that it was strange. Most would call her unwavering devotion to a boy that had never spoken to her an obsession. She even supposed that was true. After all, wasn't love supposed to be based on mutual respect, friendship? Or so her parents said. Or was it supposed to be based on a deep emotional connection? That's what the world said. Maybe…. It came to her all of a sudden that her priest might say something about her love being "sacramental," because she was showing grace in this "our fallen world" by "denying herself" and "sacrificing for love."

Or maybe she was creepy and stalker-ish. Besides, the priest's words sounded suspiciously like platitudes.

All that to say, she tried to do things for Jared that shifted her from the "creepy and stalker-ish" category to the "devoted and loving" category as frequently as possible. So, she paid attention whenever he spoke.

She knew that he liked to be outside, even in the near-constant rainfall of Forks.

She knew that he loved soccer.

She knew that he thought cheese was an abomination and should not be a part of any major food group.

Knowing these kinds of things, she tried to watch for ways to care for Jared in whatever small way she could.

She always made sure that the gym had soccer balls in stock, quietly buying some out of her own allowance whenever one was finally kicked to death. (The school's coach, Mr. Enyeto, had an unfortunate habit of coming to school with headaches that looked suspiciously like hangovers. He was tolerated though because even the jocks hated the organized forcefulness of seventh period gym under substitute teachers. So, gym was a joke, but no one was going to rat him out to the administration. If Mr. Enyeto was going to come to school slightly wasted, no one minded as long as he let them do pretty much what they wanted during gym – which included destroying soccer balls on a regular basis).

She paid close attention to what was on the cafeteria menu. If there was something with cheese, then she would slip in before lunch and help the lunch lady arrange for some cheese-free items. The lunch lady, a Mrs. Sokw who sported a neon blue hair-net and hot-pink nail polish, thought Kim was a delightful and unselfish dear who was trying to take care of lactose-intolerant students (the story a serious-faced Kim had fed her at the beginning of sophomore year – the day after she discovered Jared's dislike for cheese). However, if the truth be told, the lunch lady was also lazy and wouldn't look a willing hand in the school's tiny, greasy kitchen in the mouth.

She even prayed – the only slightly religious person in an indifferent family – for sunny days or at least mildly drizzly days so that Jared could go outdoors. Even he was smart enough not to go outside when the sky was full of thunder, lightning and hail. He always came to school the next day grumpy though.

On second thought, maybe she _was_ a stalker.

But Kim tried…. She paid attention to the tiny actions that individualized Jared – the actions that made him unique and different from everybody else – the way he rubbed his forehead with his fist when he was confused, the way he threw back his head and shouted with laughter whenever he couldn't contain his mirth, the way he bent his head and stared gravely at the floor in mock repentance whenever a teacher exasperatedly discovered him in the thick of some shenanigan or another.

There was just one thing keeping the fantasies that Kim brutally tried to control from becoming a reality.

She wasn't sure Jared even knew her name.

It didn't matter that Kim had been raised in La Push. It didn't matter that she had three younger brothers raising hell at the middle school, or that her mother and father were active in the community's affairs, or that her family had been Omaha, but had lived among the Quiluete for generations. Kim blended into the scenery. She had a face like water that seemed to fade – chameleon-like – into whatever surface she happened to be standing in front of at the moment. Her face reflected her clothing choices. It was neither beautiful nor ugly – just average.

Mrs. Sokw, the lunch lady with her blue hair-net, didn't know her name. Miss Chosovi, her young, pretty English teacher, didn't know her name. Nadia Huyana, the laughing girl she sat next to in French, didn't know her name. Mr. Enyeto, the washed-out school coach, didn't know her name. The dozens of teenagers milling through the crowed hallways, each of whom she had grown up with, didn't know her name.

And Jared Tala-Hania _certainly_ didn't know her name.

Kim came to an ungraceful and sudden stop a few feet from her locker. Jared wasn't there. He hadn't been sick a day in his life. Where could he be? She hoped nothing was wrong with him or his family. She knew that his father had left years ago and that he lived at home with his mother. He never said much, but she could see the silent respect in his eyes whenever he spoke of her, even if no one else could. If anything had happened to her….

The bright bubble of happiness that had settled in her stomach this morning because of Joey popped. She loved Joey – and Scotty and Ryan and her mother and father. But she lived each day for those few moments in between periods when she saw Jared joking around his locker, or passing notes with the guys in the one class she shared with him, English.

Feeling defeated and deflated, she trudged to what used to be her second favorite class of the day (after English), first period Art.

**A/N** **I hope everyone liked that... I'm actually experimenting in this story with an idea... It's based on my faith, but I think that everyone (whatever her religious persuasion) can find value in what I'm trying to do. **

**To explain... I've been thinking a lot about how we seem to have _extremely_ abstract concepts, particularly in religion, that we're supposed to follow. They're at the heart of most ethical systems. For instance, one of the two primary precepts in Christianity is "thou shalt love one another." We hear that _all_ the time...** **_But does that_** **_mean_?? In real life??**

**I'm trying to explore in this fic how sometimes commands like "thou shalt love one another" work out in comic ways in real life.... Particularly how they can seem really absurd sometimes. I mean, come _on_.... Kim is following the Savior's love by checking for _cheese_ in the cafeteria food? _Seriously_? It doesn't seem particularly noble, does it?**

**But I think there is something deeply sacrificial (and therefore deeply spiritual) about the level of her devotion towards Jared. It's that level of devotion -- one that includes the absurd and comic -- that I'm trying to portray in this fic. **

**There are other aspects of love (and the command "thou shalt love one another") that I'm going to explore as well, but the sometimes comic nature of love is what I'm exploring in this chapter. Stay tuned for more. :o)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Here's the next chapter for Invisible Dreamer! I'm sorry it's so short. Please review though!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight**

Chapter Three: Art Class

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_Charles Wallace stepped towards him. "Who are you?"_

_"A Teacher."_

_Charles Wallace's sigh was longing. "I wish you were __**my**__ teacher."_

_"I am." The cello-like voice was calm, slightly amused._

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Her art teacher, Mrs. Nahimana, was the only person Kim thought actually knew her name. She had that kind of artist sensibility that noticed all the tiny details that individualized each person and each day. Shaper than any Sherlock Holmes, Mrs. Nahimana could tell you what everyone was wearing at the end of the day because she took the time to _notice_. Kim wondered sometimes if anyone knew how incredibly _rare_ that was.

And yet…. for Mrs. Nahimana everything was like a detail on a painting. She noticed clothing and pattern and color in her life the same way she would contemplate the brushstrokes and colors and composition in a Monet landscape. The details for her were two-dimensional and abstract. She _saw_ Kim's black sweater, but not Kim's face. Kim was reminded again about something her priest had said… about looking into each person's face and seeing the Image of God. Mrs. Nahimana didn't see the image of God – she didn't even see the image of common humanity.

Still, Kim could never decide whether Mrs. Nahimana was to be pitied or admired. The fact that she _did_ live each day with a keen consciousness of its particularity was something to be admired. Most people lived the weeks and months with a vague blankness around their eyes, almost as if they were viewing the world through wax paper. However, at the same time, her consciousness was like a connoisseur's appreciation of a Van Eyck masterpiece. It dehumanized where it should have created.

But for all that, Mrs. Nahimana _did _know her name – which was more than Kim could say for the rest of the people in the building. Maybe it was because Kim was the only one in the school who had a love for art. Not to say that she didn't have talent too – but Mrs. Nahimana wasn't necessarily just looking for talent. She desired students who came to art because they loved the feel of chalky pastels in their hands, or nasty-smelling oil paints on their canvas.

And strangely enough – Kim did love it – all of it. For that one period she was able to shed her normally pragmatic, organized personality and lifestyle for something spontaneous, challenging and disordered. She loved the messy pastels, the smelly paints, and the difficult subjects.

Oh, she was aware that art – just like any other craft – had to be learned and practiced. It had techniques that must be mastered and skills that had to be completed. But there was also this nebulous _underworld_ quality to art, sort of like the underside of an iceberg, which existed beyond techniques or rules or skills.

It was that nebulous quality that made her love to paint, that made her _almost_ able to forget Jared for a blessed hour.

Depending on her mood, Kim painted in two different styles. She loved the old realism of the sixteenth and seventeenth century Dutch school. It was a style painstakingly built up over layers and layers of thinned oil paints. It was an exact style that still managed to be mysterious – mainly because Kim was never quite sure after all the layers were dry how the painting would turn out. Kim liked the style though because it required a severe patience, but also a dash of inventiveness as she impulsively mixed her paints and oils together.

She also liked the Dutch school because of their obsession with light. The paintings of Rembrandt could be so dark, until he illuminated the subject with one austere shaft of bright light. She loved Rembrandt, but her favorite artist was Jan Vermeer. Vermeer's style was softer and more subtle…. He painted with tiny pinpoints of light – almost anticipating the Impressionists' techniques – and Kim loved the muted yellow and blue tones of his work.

Although the Dutch artists tended to focus on interior scenes, Kim used the techniques for her small, intimate studies of the landscape around La Push – the forest with sunlight occasionally throwing dappled shadows through the trees, or the ocean on a stormy day.

However, the particular craft of the Dutch school could take months to achieve, so Kim usually experimented with it in the corner of the kitchen at home, which her mother grandly called her "studio," because it had the best light in the house (good, natural light being none too plentiful in rainy Washington). Mrs. Nahimana rarely saw those.

At school she habitually painted in a style almost diametrically opposed to that of the Dutch school. Instead of heavy oils, muted colors, and landscapes, she used bright acrylic paints, and painted canvases inspired by folk art or by traditional Native American designs. Kim loved the bright colors and abstract designs of traditional Native American art, a love that she shared with her mother.

Her mother collected old Native American weaving – rugs, blankets, table runners – and even had a loom set up in their basement. On lazy Saturday afternoons, they talked for hours about colors and patterns, comparing their favorite designs. Kim always took her school canvases home, and her mother would sometimes weave rugs or blankets based on Kim's original designs, whenever she was on holiday from the hospital.

But on this day Kim wasn't in the mood for the brightly colored canvases she usually painted, and she didn't have the patience to work on a Dutch-inspired landscape. Instead, in a rare show of emotion, she started slashing great gobs of paint onto a canvas. She had no idea what she was painting – she really didn't care even.

By the end of class, she saw what _looked_ to be a storm blowing through a forest. The trees, carelessly shaped by sweeping brushstrokes saturated with paint, were bent over in the wind. They looked harsh, yet ethereal. It was a style reminiscent of modern art – of Edvard Munch maybe…

Kim hated it.

Mrs. Nahimana felt differently, however. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "May I keep this in here, dear? I would love to hang it on the wall!"

Kim nodded in silent frustration, packed her bags, and went her next class.

**A/N Okay, I know this chapter seems a little out of place... But it plays perfectly into the second thing that I wanted to explore in this story about love (besides it's sometimes comic aspects). That's the aspect of paying attention... Can one really love someone without _paying attention_? That's my question for you today. **

**It becomes very important later in the fic. **

**Please tell me what you think! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. **

Chapter Four: Waiting

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_Charles asked, "Why do people always mistrust people who are different? Am I really that different?"_

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Kim spent the rest of the two weeks, three days that Jared missed of school silently waiting. And watching.

She moved swiftly every day through the throng of students to get to her locker, hoping – and praying – that Jared would be there, laughing with his friends over some prank they had pulled the previous day.

The frustrating thing was that there was no one she could ask about where Jared was. She knew no one. No one knew her.

Although Kim tended to be very private about her feelings, Joey had noticed the first day that all wasn't right. Usually, she came in from school and drew with Joey after his art class before she started on her homework. That first day that Jared was gone, she didn't feel like it.

"Why don't you draw something special without me today, Joey. I feel kind of …. tired," said Kim, her head low.

Joey had looked at Kim in confusion. A growing horror surfaced in his little-boy mind as the certainty grew that Kim looked like she was about to _cry_.

He hurriedly assured her, "It's okay, Kim. Today was a pottery day, not a drawing day anyway. I'll just get some clay out." He patted her arm awkwardly and then dashed to the art cabinet to rummage his clay out from underneath jumbled boxes of paper, paint, and colored pencils.

It had taken her mother until the next Saturday to notice that something was not right when Kim showed no interest in looking at a new rug Mrs. Donoma had unearthed at a garage sale earlier that morning. Knowing that Kim would talk when she was ready (and would _not_ if someone tried to pry the truth from her), she had given her daughter a hug – which made Kim blush – and gone back to her own business.

So, two weeks and three days later Kim sat at her lunch table in the corner of the cafeteria. No one else sat there because it was shadowed and gloomy. The big florescent light above her table had busted _years _ago and the administration had never taken the time to replace it. She didn't even think anyone knew the table was back there.

She got to her seat early because she didn't come to help Mrs. Sokw with the food today. Mrs. Sokw had stared at Kim reproachfully when she stepped in line to buy her lunch, but she couldn't bring herself to care. However, even though she got through the lunch line early, it didn't matter. No one ever saw her walk to her seat if she was late or early. Kim, with her fluid walk and small stature, was able to just vanish. No one noticed her at all.

From her little corner, she could read or watch the students trooping in from fifth period classes. Although she always had a book with her (usually _Measure for Measure_ – her favorite Shakespeare play or _The Power and the Glory_ by Graham Greene), she rarely read, preferring to watch the people around her. She confessed to herself that she liked trying to figure people out….which was usually a subterfuge for saying that she liked to figure Jared out – something that she only admitted to herself on good days. It was usually he she watched in the cafeteria.

She couldn't help but cherish a small little hope every day that he was gone that she had just missed him at his locker – come in too late from dropping her little brothers off at school – and that she would see him at lunch. She could see it so clearly in her mind's eye. He would be laughing at the table, regaling his friends with tall tales of how sick he was, after which everyone would settle to gossiping about the school and its inhabitants like they normally did.

But he wasn't here today.

Kim sighed as the bell rang. She carefully threw away her lunch and walked to her English class.

Kim would have liked English even if Jared had _not_ been in the class. There was something about reading that entranced her…. Maybe it was because she could walk just one step behind the characters she read about – share to some small degree the completely different experiences of their world. She wasn't sure if any of her classmates realized just how _alien _the characters in the books they read were from them … how liberating and yet how _terrifying_ it was to feel – even if just for a little while – the consciousness of someone completely Other.

She sometimes wondered if adopting someone else's way of seeing things could almost become a transcendental experience … because even as she saw things the way the character saw them, she never left her own consciousness away completely – and the tension between the two created a special kind of exhilaration.

She also imagined that the sensation of reading a book was similar to mind-reading. Except, of course, that book characters don't talk back.

On this day, however, Kim was not interested in the lives of Ophelia or Prospero or David Copperfield. She barely listened to Mrs. Chosovi, unconsciously scribbling and writing on her notebook paper. It was a nervous habit that she picked up when she was in elementary school – sixth grade, to be exact. When the bell rang and she looked down to see what she had written, she scowled, and her cheeks turned a dark red. She crumpled up the paper, thrusting it into a pocket of her backpack.

Over and over she had written _Mrs. Tala-Hania_.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Unexpected

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_Meg and Calvin, straining to peer through the trees, saw nothing. _

_Then Charles Wallace cried, "My dragons!"_

_They turned around, and they saw, there by the great rock –_

_Wings, it seemed like hundreds of wings, spreading, folding, stretching –_

_And eyes…_

_How many eyes can a drive of dragons have?_

_And small jets of flame…_

_Suddenly a voice called to them from the direction of the woods, "Do not be afraid!"_

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Two weeks, four days after Jared disappeared from school, he reappeared again.

Kim, feeling the long-term effects of depression ever more painfully as the days had passed, came to an abrupt stop when she rushed into school and saw him at his regular place by his locker.

If she hadn't have been so shocked and so happy and so relieved to see him she might have noticed that he was not joking with his usual group of noisy friends. She might have noticed that he seemed to have grown about eight inches in the brief two weeks, four days he had been out, reaching a height that now towered over her small frame. She might have noticed that he looked like he had traded muscles with a body builder. She might have noticed that his shoulder length black hair was now cut short around his ears.

None of this she noticed, however, in her wordless joy to have him back.

It did not take her long to suspect that something was different though when she walked into the cafeteria.

Jared was sitting at a table in the corner with only one other person. For one thing, it was unusual for Jared to sit by himself. Unlike Kim, he seemed to need to surround himself with people – to engage with them instead of observe them. However, what was even more unusual was that he was sitting with Paul Ohanko.

As soon as she saw it, she halted. Paul had rather a reputation around the school for having a short temper. And since he had had that weird growth spurt a month ago his temper had become even more … unpredictable. Kim had always assumed that Jared and Paul were polar opposites.

Paul caught her gaping and scowled. Slowly his hands began to tremor as she continued to stare. The trembling increased until Jared grabbed his arm and began speaking to him quietly in a fierce voice. Paul dragged his eyes away from Kim and took deep breaths. As soon as Paul returned to his usual stillness, Jared turned around. Jared's back had been to Kim the entire time, but when he turned he saw nothing.

By this time Kim was huddled at her corner table, disguised by shadows.

She took deep, calming breaths, blushing furiously and panicked at the hatred and anger she had seen in Paul's eyes when he caught her staring. More troubling, she thought about the sadness she had seen in Jared's.

Jared – who continually joked about his cheese antipathy and played pranks and enjoyed the sunshine and the rain…

Kim watched Jared throughout the entire lunch break. No one else came to sit at their table, and Jared and Paul talked quietly with each other until the end of the period.

Kim walked to English class with a strange sense of anticipation. She wanted desperately to see Jared up close. Maybe then she could understand what made him so sad. If she could understand, then maybe she could help him or care for him like she had been trying to these past few years…

She didn't want him to particularly notice her help. She didn't need thanks or gratitude. But she did want him to notice _her_. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently, it was.

Jared stared down at his desk, never speaking, for the entire lesson.

And he did the same thing the next day….

And the next day.

And the next day.

Finally, four days after his return – on a Friday – he looked up when Mrs. Chosovi asked him a direct question.

"Can you tell me anything, Mr. Tala-Hania, about the social conditions of Dickens' world that provoked so much of the author's anger in _David Copperfield_?" she asked.

Kim was not so much shocked that Jared _answered_ (for he _was_ smart, even if he paid little attention in school – and she had always been sure that there was much he knew that he never let on to his friends) but by the timbre of his voice. It was low and gravelly, but somehow warm at the same time. A deep bass voice….

Kim stared at him in shock (and, truth be told, in adoration) the entire time he was speaking, paying little attention to the words he actually spoke. He could have been speaking a foreign language for all the notice she took of it.

And then she abruptly realized that he had stopped speaking several moments before and was looking straight at her for the first time.

Kim desperately wished that she could say something – _anything_ – that was smart or witty or funny. But she could only turn swiftly around and stare down at her desk in embarrassment, her face flushing. Out of the corner of her eye she could still see him staring, and her cheeks turned a shade darker.

But before she had turned away, she had seen a strange look on his face... At first it had been open-faced shock… It almost had a feeling of childlike vulnerability to it – the kind of look that Joey had on his face whenever he was trying to be brave but failed – but much more intense … visceral…

That look of shock was just changing over to something else when she looked away… something much more powerful… with an adult awareness and passion to it so different from the child-like surprise of a moment earlier….

But Kim, with all her skill at observation and analyzation when it came to people, was completely unsure what Jared's expression meant. It was unlike any look she had ever seen before on a face.

And to be perfectly honest, the intensity of it scared her to death.

Feeling her face flush even darker, Kim swept her black hair from behind her ear, using it to shield her face (and, truth be told, silently wishing her hair was longer). As soon as she did so, she could see through the screen of her hair Jared shifting in frustration.

The moment the bell rang, Kim grabbed her backpack, not even bothering to shove her English book into it, and ran out the door. She heard Jared calling for her to wait, but she didn't want to think about it…

She was never really sure afterwards why she ran away from him. Was she afraid that this notice was too good to be true? Was she afraid of the intensity of his newfound interest?

Or was she afraid of finally, _actually_ experiencing what she had dreamed about since the sixth grade?

Kim didn't know how, but she did make it to her last period class in record time. Her skill at maneuvering crowds helped her now. She skimmed quickly and effortlessly down the hallways, hearing Jared's more awkward attempts to reach her fade into the noise of the school.

She turned a corner and collapsed into the classroom, slumping into the last seat of the class, furthest away from the door, breathless and confused.

Had what she _thought_ had happened _really happened_?


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N I had one reviewer who made a very perceptive comment that I thought I would address on this author's note. She said that Kim was acting a bit stalkerish, which is true so far as it goes. However, one thing I'm trying to do in this story is to explore -- really explore -- what it means to love. **

**Kim is in high school. Kim has a crush. So far, that seems very simple. However, I would encourage everyone to think back to when you were in high school or middle school. What exactly happened when you had a crush on someone? Did you pay attention -- like Kim is doing -- to every detail of your crush in order to help them, even if such help was never noticed or rewarded? Answer honestly! I know I didn't. **

**This is why I like Kim and Jared's story so much (at least how I see it in my universe). Even though, by conventional standards, Kim could be called a stalker, she is very different from your everyday, run-of-the-mill crush in that she is not using Jared to satisfy some need of her own. **

***entering rant***

**I think that so many people enter a relationship for the wrong reasons -- They enter because they _need _the relationship. I believe that it is only when one can be perfectly content being single that one is in a position to enter a relationship because one is able to give love to the other person -- and not always take. **

***end rant***

**I hope that my portrayal of Kim -- no matter how wacky it gets -- shows that kind of sacrificial nature. It's not an immature crush. Her "stalking" of Jared may get comical, but I hope it's never selfish. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. **

**Please review! **

Chapter Six: Monday Morning

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_The air about the schoolyard was rent with a great howling and shrieking … It was as though rip after rip were being slashed in the air, and then the edges were drawn together and healed. _

_Silence. And quiet. And a small, ordinary, everyday wind. _

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It was perhaps one of the longest weekends of Kim's life. She stayed inside the house, unsettled, never able to sit down to anything, but too afraid to leave the house.

Too afraid of possibly running into Jared.

She slept badly Sunday night, and woke up late on a surprisingly sunny Monday morning. Hurrying with unaccustomed crankiness to get the three boys ready for school, she rushed through breakfast and broke multiple traffic laws getting them to class. That done, she careened around the corner of the high school lot, parked and dashed inside the building.

Just in front of her locker, she came to an abrupt halt, almost crashing to the ground.

Jared moved instinctively, ready to catch her, but Kim righted herself and just stared at him. As soon as it became clear that she was _not_ going to fall, Jared's face broke out into a stunning smile.

"Hi," he said.

"Hello," she responded softly. As soon as Kim spoke, Jared's grin became, if anything, wider.

Jared stood there for a few moments staring at her, when suddenly the bell rang harshly against the silence of the now empty halls.

Kim jumped and dashed down the hall to her first period class, nervously aware of Jared's soft steps behind her. She reached the room before the tardy bell rang, however, and tried to focus on her art.

Which was slightly difficult since her heart was pounding a strange rhythm against her chest.

Mrs. Nahimana looked at Kim strangely for a second, and then began showing the class what they would be doing that day. Kim struggled to pay attention, but she could barely concentrate when Mrs. Nahimana passed out the boxes of pastels.

Over the next fifty minutes, Kim tried to focus on the drawing in front of her, but her heart wasn't in it. However, bringing all her practicality to bear on the issue at hand she had almost succeeded in concentrating when suddenly Mrs. Nahimana rushed to the door.

"Jared, what in the world _are_ you doing here? You should be in class!" she scolded softly, trying not to disturb her students.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Nahimana, but I have to stay here right now. You may speak to the principle if you like. But it's …. important," Jared said in a voice of calm authority.

Dazed, apparently, at the note of command she heard in his voice, Mrs. Nahimana just nodded her head and proceeded with class.

It was all over now. A nuclear explosion could have occurred in the classroom and Kim wouldn't have noticed. All she could think about was that Jared Tala-Hania was waiting outside her classroom door – for her.

When the bell finally rang, Kim gathered her books slowly. She carefully washed her hands and put away her supplies. Her hands only trembled slightly when she picked up her backpack and moved towards the door, one of the last students in the class to leave.

Jared was leaning against the wall. He smiled just as soon as she appeared.

She blushed instantly, but couldn't help smiling back, causing Jared's grin to grow broader. He walked with her in silence to her next class, standing guard outside the door the same as first period.

He continued to do so until lunch arrived. Kim hurried from her biology class to the cafeteria, hyper aware that he was quietly following her again. Only when she hurried to put on an apron and push open the door to the kitchen did he finally speak.

"Whoa … wait a minute!" he said in that warm, deep voice of his. "Where are you going?"

"T-the k-k-itchen," Kim stuttered, looking at the floor.

"Why?" he asked softly.

Kim hesitated, and then – raising her chin slightly – replied, "It would take too long to explain."

She pushed past him and he reluctantly let her pass.

When she finally emerged fifteen minutes later she was so nervous she was wringing her hands. She quickly selected and paid for a lunch. Looking at her feet, she wove swiftly through the students to her table in the corner. As she bit into her apple she heard a strange silence engulf the cafeteria. She looked up and stared. And then she blushed.

Jared was standing with his tray of food right in front of her table.

"How do you _do_ that," he asked curiously.

"Do what?" she gasped.

"Disappear so suddenly…. I saw you come out of the kitchen, but then I lost you," he said in a tone of awe. Kim thought she heard a hint of frustration in his voice.

"I don't know," she replied softly. "I guess people just don't see me."

Jared's face hardened at her words and muttered, "Well, they _should_."

Kim, surprised that he would defend her, wasn't able to reply. Her discomfort became worse when he sat down next to her and began to eat.

And eat.

Kim had never seen anybody eat so much in her life. Too upset and confused to eat herself, she just barely managed to finish her apple (all the while trying to ignore how Jared kept darting anxious glances at how little she was eating) before the bell rang.

Like before, Jared followed her to all her classes, speaking rarely in the hallways. As the day passed, Kim found herself becoming less uneasy, until she came to expect his quiet presence next to her. When she found the courage to look at him at all (which was rare) she saw a perplexing frustration growing on his face.

When the final bell rang, Kim walked out to her car, very aware of Jared close behind her.

She turned around, fiddling with the strap of her backpack. "Um, thanks for walking with me today, Jared," she said. As soon as she said his name, a pained expression crossed his face.

Unsure what to say or do, she blurted out, "Well, I'll see you tomorrow. I'm just going to wait on my brothers…."

"Brothers? You have brothers?" asked Jared eagerly.

"Yes, three brothers," said Kim softly. "They go to the middle school. On sunny days like today they like to walk across the street and meet me here."

"May I wait here with you?" asked Jared.

Kim raised her eyes briefly in shock, before looking down again and blushing.

"Sure," she whispered.

She shifted nervously from foot to foot until she heard their high-pitched teasing from across the street. Kim turned around and waved at Scotty, Ryan and Joey. Her forehead crinkled a little when she noticed Joey walking a little slower than he normally did.

"Kim!" shouted Scotty. "Guess what!"

Before she could reply, she felt someone crush her in the warmest hug she had ever felt. She realized a split second later that the slightly woodsy smell of the t-shirt in front of her nose was Jared's.

She started gasping and Jared let her go. He gave her a cocky grin that still managed to smolder with intensity before shouting, "Good-bye … Kim!"

Kim, sure that a silly smile was on her face, was barely able to concentrate on what had Scotty so excited.


End file.
